Mai Chou had long ago learned a bitter lesson: no matter how hard he tried, there was always someone stronger, smarter, more talented. The lesson had seeped into him until it twisted. The thought that comforted him now was ugly in its simplicity — if everyone stronger than him were gone, he’d be first.
“Kid,” Ji Wangqiu said with the easy swagger of an older brother claiming his ward, reaching toward Ning Yitao’s shoulder. She slipped away before he could lay a hand on her.
Ning Yitao folded her arms and kept her face impassive. “After all these years, you’re still a rake. Your bond with the current soul isn’t stable yet. Don’t go playing with spirit power.”
“All right, all right. I know, I know. Thanks for worrying about me, Taotao.” Ji beam-smiled, pleased to have the nickname stick.
Ning’s face twitched at the pet name. She could have snapped to stop it — she never stopped him, partly because that habit was so ingrained, partly because it was harmless theater. Let him flatter himself.
There were only a handful of people willing to stand with Sarava. Granny Grace, the kindly old sorceress; Eve, a shrine maiden who’d found an excuse to befriend Ning; and Henry, who mostly wanted to help Ning. The rest of the mediums kept their distance. They weren’t animated by principle so much as calculation — everyone wanted to climb the rankings, whatever it took. Compared with them, Mai Chou’s cruelty was an honest confession; the others simply schemed more subtly in the privacy of their thoughts.
Granny Grace stepped forward because she was generous by nature. Eve told Ning plainly she’d helped because she wanted to be friends. “I could feel another soul on her,” she said with a smile. “I hope we won’t become enemies. You’ll make a good ally, Miss Ning.”
Together they eased the baneful miasma out of Sarava. Her body had been convulsing from the spike of spiritual energy; the parasitic gu-creature that had reacted to the surge had crawled to her shoulder and curled back into a deep, dormant sleep. The malign aura — the taint that fed it — was spilling out of her now. Ning only needed the right moment to pull the rest free.
Ji Wangqiu handed her a dagger carved with swirling symbols. He’d smeared his blood over the blade — a crude but effective measure to ensure the parasite wouldn’t flay away and leave traces behind. When the insect visibly deflated, Ning’s reflexes snapped.
She slit Sarava’s shoulder in one clean motion and peeled the creature away whole. With her other hand she pressed a talisman to the wound; the parasite instantly charred into a curl of gray ash.
Sarava inhaled sharply and opened her eyes. It took a long beat for her to find purchase in the world again, but she managed to prop herself up. When she saw the people who’d saved her—and the crowd of onlookers who’d stood by—her face crumpled.
The worst sting came from recognition: the one who’d rescued her was the person she disliked most. Those who’d pretended friendship were the ones who’d watched her suffocate. The memory of begging for help and being ignored churned raw inside her. Near-death had left an imprint she never wanted to feel again.
Tears rimmed Sarava’s eyes as she forced herself to stand and thank each of her rescuers. Mumu — a former confidante — fluttered forward with a cluster of sycophants, theatrically offering support. Sarava shoved her away. The shove nearly toppled her; Ning stepped forward and caught her.
“You need to rest,” Ning said briskly. “You’ve been drained nearly dry. Go home and rebuild. Surviving this is fortune — don’t squander it. And don’t get reckless; when you go after my other lost soul, do it properly. I expect you to be more careful next time.”
Sarava bowed her head, shame flushing her face. “No — it was my pride this morning. I was careless and I lashed out. I’m sorry for my stupidity.”
The cell door swung open behind them. Saviel — the celebrity who’d been knocked unconscious by Ning earlier — staggered in, ignoring her manager’s frantic grasp. She hurled herself at Ning like a woman who’d been betrayed and wounded.
“What did you do to him?” she demanded.
Ning had known he would run. She hadn’t had the strength to force him to stay. She also hadn’t expected him to seek Saviel out. “He got away,” she said evenly. “This time you can be relieved. Next time he won’t be so lucky. You’re all here to find him a new shell, aren’t you? You’ve planted people to test the mediums’ strengths.”
Saviel’s expression flickered between anger and something like amusement when Ning mentioned the black aura. She only laughed to herself. “Then I’ll pick you next,” she said, venom turning into a promise. “This time I underestimated you. Wait.”
Ning sighed. “I’ll be ready whenever you are. But don’t go to 361 Xi’er Street. He’s lying to you. If you go there you’ll be walking into a trap — and if you go, we may not get another chance.”
Saviel’s memory stopped at the broadcast’s abrupt cut. She waved that caution away. “You don’t understand. He’d never lie to me. We just want to be together. Everything he says is for my own good.” With that she stormed off, dragging her assistant in her wake. Her words fell on deaf ears.
Ning had no appetite to chase the fleeing shadow further. Her spirit reserves were thin; she felt a pull to return to Duan Qinghuai now that she’d gained a fresh store of merit energy. The production team had arranged a car back to the country. As she moved through the milling crew, a figure to the side caught her eye and she stopped.
The young assistant, Xie Qian, was Chinese too, and she grew uneasy under Ning’s gaze. Ning walked over and spoke softly, with the frankness of someone who expected obedience.
“Xie Qian,” she said, “what you’re looking for is at your husband’s ancestral home. Before you go, don’t tell Di Yong. If you need help, find me at the San Hua Taoist Temple in City A.”
She did not wait for a response. The words left Xie Qian standing frozen. Ning had glanced at her and said her name and her husband’s with the certainty of someone who’d already decided their course.
Conflicted for a moment, Xie Qian made her choice. She bought a ticket home. She would see Di Yong’s birthplace. She would find the answers she’d been longing for, even if it meant keeping a secret.
Ning turned and walked toward the waiting car. There would be time later for enemies and escaped shadows. For now she had to get back to Duan Qinghuai and rebuild what she had spent. The world was a mess, and the past had a way of catching up. But she had done what she could today — and that, for now, was enough.